The Origin of Manfred von Karma
by oneawayfrom412
Summary: Ever wondered why Manfred von Karma was such a not-nice guy? Here's a possibility I thought of. Warning: this story contains abuse and is rather sad. This story supposes that when Manfred was young, he had a younger sister, Angela, and lived with her and their parents.
1. Downhill Start

Manfred von Karma was always finding different ways to not be at home ever since he got big enough to think that way. He was scared his father would beat him again. Every time something was wrong in his father's life, his father would get violent. Manfred felt bad in his heart for not taking care of his younger sister and mother at home, but he was too afraid to face it. He would bury his face in a book in the library in order to distract himself from what was happening at home. He grew up in that house, always scared of his father and worried about his little sister, Angela. Without ever having any friends to celebrate with and nobody at home to tell him his birthday, he didn't know he had grown up to his early twenties.

One day, as Manfred slowly opened the door after his time out at the library, he smelled something foul. He didn't know what it was, but it filled his nose and caused him to shake. He may not have known what it actually was, but he thought it was frightening and he barely brought himself to enter the house. He decided to go to his sister's room to check on her. He knocked with no response, and he started panicking. His father might have actually done it- killed them. He started hyperventilating as he ran to his mother's room, not realizing how much stronger the smell got as he approached the door, not noticing the big, bloody bootprints on the floor outside the door. He slowly creaked open the door, and the sight he saw froze him in place. The smell reinforcing his dread. He saw his mother with several stab wounds and a slit neck. He knew it had to have been his father's doing. Who else could it be? He heard loud solid footsteps approaching his parents' door and was freaking out. He held his nose and squirmed his best under the bed. He couldn't see anything but the bloodstained boots; he could hear only the footsteps and a familiar voice. It was taking all he had to not vomit. He was holding his mouth and nose, trying not to make himself noticeable. Suddenly his mother's arm suddenly fell, hanging down off the bed in front of his face and he almost let out a yelp, but he knew that would mean nothing good. He heard the voice keep talking. He knew it was his father's. The voice said, "Now I only need to kill the boy. He'll be home soon. I should think of how I'll do it. That brat can join his weak mother and his stupid sister in death." Manfred was now doing everything he could to keep from screaming and vomiting. He could only see his mother's arm and behind that, his father's boots walking away. He could hear his father's laughter. Panicking more, feeling like he had to get away- get help, he ran to his parents' bathroom, trying his best to not make noise. He closed the door behind him slowly. He was hyperventilating more, he was losing control of his body, about to pass out. His vision was blurring, but he climbed up onto their sink, making some noise, clawing at the lock on the window. He could hear slightly hurried, loud footsteps coming back to the bedroom. Surprised, Manfred's knee slipped, and he luckily didn't fall, but did, in fact, make a loud noise, catching himself. He started lifting the window open faster, barely able to see or think or breathe. His father's steps were at the door to the bedroom now. Manfred is desperately trying to force himself through the window, knowing it didn't matter what noise he's making; his father has already heard him. His father kicks open the door hard, the door slamming open with a loud thunk. Manfred barely managed to escape through the window before his father kicked the door open. He ran all the way to the nearest payphone and called the police. He reported what had happened, and the police showed up at the von Karma household, but it was clean. No sign of anything having happened was to be found nor was Manfred's father, but they searched and searched. They did find two things after hours of searching. They tried to not let Manfred in, but he found a way to sneak through. He was scarred even worse by what they found.


	2. Bumpy Ride

There were the two things, sitting in those plain plastic evidence bags, stained with blood. In one bag, was something he'd seen not too long ago- his mother's bloody hand. It struck him deep inside, yet, shaking in place, he looked at the next. In the other, was one thing Manfred really didn't want to see- one thing that he had hoped wasn't actually in front of him. He was taken aback by the sight; it was his sister's head. He started breathing faster and faster- shallower and shallower. His vision went black as he fell back, barely feeling the impact, hearing voices calling to him and the sounds of officers yelling at each other faint in the distance.

The next thing he saw was a hospital room as he sat up with a start, screaming and crying. He didn't know what to do. He was panicking, yelling for help and for his family back. A bunch of nurses ran in, giving him a shot to calm him down, him fighting back half-heartedly, knowing it would do no good. He finally was calm, thanks to the shot and him telling himself it must've been just a dream- that he'd made it up in his sleep after being knocked out in an accident or something. The nurses left, saying, "If you need anything, call."

Manfred was beside himself, going crazy trying to force himself to believe that his mother or sister just didn't know something happened to him or his father wouldn't let them come in to see him. He had just settled down enough to think it through and convince himself they were ok when he heard a knock on the door.

He sat on the edge of his bed, straightened out his hospital gown, and smiled, ready to see his mother's face and hug his sister. He half-shouted, "Come in." The door slowly opened and the smile faded from his face, his heart racing, tears welling again. He saw a police officer's uniform through the slowly opening door, and it filled him with dread all over again, but deeper, as he realized it was probably real, and it felt like his mother and sister were being taken away again. He could see his mother's bloody body, his sister's pained face. He admitted to himself it was indeed real, but he couldn't scream or cry anymore. He was broken, the color gone from his face, not crying, not screaming—he just sat, straight-faced, staring blankly at the policeman as he entered his hospital room. The officer pulled up a chair and softly said, "I need to ask you a few questions about what happened to your mother and sister and about your call." Manfred, looked, forcing a smile, emotionlessly saying, "Sure." The questions started off easy, like the policeman was trying to gently get to what he wanted to ask. Manfred could see through it but went with it anyway. They got through Manfred's name, age, and all of those questions. Finally, the policeman said, "Do you remember what happened to your mother and sister?" Manfred calmly and coldly stated, "My father killed them. I'd testify to it. That's what you want, right? He needs to suffer for this." The policeman, a little taken aback, said, "A-are you sure it was your father?" Manfred temporarily faltered as he remembered his father's words—"Now I only need to kill the boy. He'll be home soon. I should think of how I'll do it. That brat can join his weak mother and his stupid sister in death." He could hear his father's laughter and see his boots walking away. Manfred stilled his broken heart and said, "It was him. He was going to k- k— do it to me too." The policeman was still a little taken aback, but he said, "Ok. Describe what you recall from that night" as he pulled a notepad and pencil out of his uniform. As Manfred coldly described that horrible momentary eternity, the policeman wrote down what he viewed as important. As he concluded the story, the policeman said, "Thank you for your time. Rest up so you can testify, and if he really did this, he'll go to jail for it." As the policeman left, Manfred said nothing and stared blankly at the floor. The blue-uniformed man, said "I'm sorry, Manfred," as he closed the door and left Manfred dwelling on it. Manfred after hours of staring fell back onto the bed and immediately fell asleep.


	3. Joke Chapter involving inflating

**When I was a young warthog. (When he was a young warthooooog).**

I'm Manfred von Karma, and I had a horrible life until my experience with Flextape. It fixed everything! Moving on, though, I've become a prosecutor and today's my first trial. I've decided to go to a dark abandoned building to hide some evidence. It didn't pan out well. I got kidnapped by this weird guy who likes inflation. He kept saying my sister's name as I was tied up and said hed only stop if I objected into myself repeatedly. I did what I was told and I grew and grew and grew from all the wind and speech bubbles. I could feel my body at its limits when all of a sudden he said to stop as he approached and tickled me all over. I was enjoying it and didn't know why. Then he put his finger where he shouldn't. I went boom and exploded. I'm a ghost now. Thanks for listening to my Tedtalk. This episode was brought to you by the country Argentucky and the letter semi-colon

This was written in honor of my friend who enjoys exploding the main characters of the stories he writes. His stories are much better at it than this, but I just wanted to dedicate a joke chapter to him. This is NOT CANNON to my actual Manfred von Karma origin story.


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